


Possibilities

by simplyprologue



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Drabble Collection, F/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-18
Updated: 2013-03-18
Packaged: 2017-12-05 16:45:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 2,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/725547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simplyprologue/pseuds/simplyprologue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No one knows what the future holds. But possibly, a lot of sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. With Moonlight in Her Hair

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N:** A collection of smutty SanSan drabbles from last night's kink drabble-a-thon on my tumblr, posted here for your convenience. Each is five sentences long, as the prompt guidelines dictated. May possibly do again in the future, so I'll leave this marked as incomplete.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt was: SanSan, moonlight, snow, hair, by lyannaofmormont.

It’s the first winter of Sansa’s adulthood, the first of their marriage and the first with Winterfell rebuilt, with no worries and no threat of death or hardship—and the first big snow finds Sandor Clegane flat on his back in his wife’s chambers as she rides him like a stallion late into the night. She’s wanton in her abandon, smiling wickedly when she raises up onto her knees, sweat trickling down between her breasts as she works herself down over his cock. 

Sandor curses, urging her on with his hands on her hips, molding his fingers to her flesh, and she laughs, letting him dictate her motions— _faster, harder, faster, harder, fuck_ —until she’s moaning loudly, head bowing forward until curled tendrils of auburn brush his chest.  _Make her come,_ he thinks, planting his feet and bucking up into her until she screams and his mind explodes not far behind her _, not like there’ll be anything to do with three feet of snow on the ground by morning—_ no, he wants to make her pass out from pleasure. 

“No wonder Northerners have so many children,” he tells her later, her small frame shaking as she giggles with her head rest on his shoulder. 


	2. Hormones... and urges

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Pregnancy sex," prompted by anonymous.

Sansa wakes one night after the babe has quickened within her, heat pulsing between her thighs, the delicate skin coated in wetness and hungry for her lord husband’s cock—so she takes it in her hand, working him slowly until he moans into consciousness, immediately reaching for her. 

“Seven hells, little bird,” Sandor says, slurring, reaching to roll her onto her side ( _ever so gently_ , she thinks, even moreso since he learned about the babe) and pulls her leg back over his, the pads of his fingers immediately seeking out the place that makes her squirm with delight. “Gods,” he mutters, more awake, “you’re so wet.” 

Sansa can barely respond, rolling her hips back against him, her belly making her awkward, but she abandons the notion when she feels his cock pressed up against her entrance, and he swears loudly, no longer encased by the trappings of sleep—and pushes into her with one, unyielding thrust. One hand plumping her engorged breast, the other rubbing her clit, he fucks her until she screams. 


	3. Dessert

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt was: SanSan/lemoncakes, by thehoundking

He smears the dessert on the plain of her belly, rubs it on the tips of her breasts, and Sansa giggles until he pulls a nipple into his mouth and sucks ravenously.

“Oh gods be good,” she gasps, burying her hands in his hair when he scrapes his teeth down the side of one breast before biting down on the curve, suckling what she knows will turn into a lovebite into her flesh. 

“No,” he rasps, moving southward. “Just me.” 

Tightening her grip, she pushes Sandor’s head between her thighs in lieu of a reply.


	4. Blinded

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt was: blindfolds - Sansa x Sandor, by anonymous

“Trust me,” she had whispered, tying one of her silk scarves around her eyes. And he had, because he always has—and Sandor Clegane thanks gods that he doesn’t believe in that he did, with Sansa Stark’s mouth surrounding his cock, with Sansa Stark letting him fuck her pretty pink lips. 

She hums around him, one of her songs, fingers wrapped around his base as she swallows him. He reaches blindly for her, fisting her hair (oh gods, he can see it, eyes closed in concentration, lips red and swollen, cheeks pink) when she pulls back suddenly, tongue flicking over the slit of his aching erection, laving the sensitive spot under the heading, hand twisting and working him over until he—

She swallows every drop (a lady doesn’t spit, she had told him once), crawls up his body, and pushes the blindfold from his eyes (she was wearing the same devilish grin then as she is now.) 


	5. all the way to the floor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt was: SanSan; Sansa has long legs, by anonymous

Seven hells, he loves looking at her legs—loves them when they peek through her dressing gown as she readies for the day at her mirror, when she rolls off her stockings at night, but he loves them the most when they’re wrapped around his hips, the heels of her feet digging into the base of back. He loves to trail his palms up to where they meet her hips and back, feeling the muscles and curves rippling as she shakes apart at her peak. 

 _It’s where they right fucking belong_ , Sandor thinks. 

He loves to trail his palms up to where they meet her hips and back, feel the muscles and curves rippling as she shakes apart at her peak. 

But he also love kissing up her legs, tracing the lines of her calves, her thighs, the dip behind her knees, with his mouth, until he’s right where he belongs—

Right between them. 


	6. Fuck Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt was: SanSan/dirty talk, by anonymous

“Fuck,” Sansa says on a moan, and Sandor lifts his head from where he had been (quite contentedly) grunting his pleasure into the crook of her neck. 

“Keep going,” he tells her with a roguish smile when her cheeks pinken. “Oh, you’re going to blush at  _fuck_ , little bird, not that my cock is quite firmly lodged up in your wet little cunt?“ 

She shakes her head, and it becomes a game—he thrusts hard into her, the wet slap of flesh urging him on as he spills every vulgar phrase he can think of into her ear, until she finally breaks with a whimper, matching him curse for every bloody curse. Sandor thinks nothing will ever turn him on more than the prim and proper Lady Stark whimpering— _gods, give me your cock, gods you’re so fucking hard it’s making me so wet, that’s it, give it to me, fuck me harder, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me_ —in his ear. 


	7. Still Waters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt was: SanSan... skinny dipping

He doesn’t know what to think when he follows her towards the hot springs late at night, autumn’s first gusts brushing down over the North. But when Sansa lets her robe fall to the grass, pale skin reflecting in the moonlight, gooseflesh pimpling over her lithe limbs and smiles at him, Sandor doesn’t hesitate to strip his clothes from his body and join her. 

Bolder than in the day, she pushes him with her fingertips to his chest to sit against the edge, and mounts him. The water sloshes around them, but she doesn’t care, kissing him with lips curved into a secretive smile. She moans happily when he cups her breasts, working him with her hips until they both fall. 


	8. Riding Boots

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt was: SanSan... Sandor really likes Sansa's new boots, by thehoundking

He finds her on her bed, wearing naught but a smile and her new leather riding boots—supple brown leather boots that fit close to her slim calves, curve up over her graceful knees, intricate gold laces and silver embroidery, highlighting every line of her perfect feet and legs—and Sandor realizes she’s been catching him staring all day, as the Lady of Winterfell and her party rode from the Inn at the Crossroads north, to where they’ve been hosted for the night. 

His cock tenting his trousers, he crawls from the edge of the bed over her body, and she pushes his clothes from his body. 

“You like them?” Sansa whispers, before catching his earlobe between her teeth. He growls in admiration, wrapping her legs around his hips, loving the feel of the leather sliding across his skin. 

She lets him fuck her with them on. 


	9. Days of Summer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt was: SanSan, swimming, by lyannaofmormont.

They find the lake while exploring the grounds surrounding Hornwood while on progress, and in the heat of summer, Sandor barely hesitates to dismount, strip off his clothes and stride in, leaving Sansa sputtering behind him. She lingers at the edge of the water, twisting her riding gloves in her palms, heat rising on her neck when she sees his cock hardening under the water. 

“That’s not just the heat making your cheeks pink, little bird,” he teases, making no attempt at covering himself. 

Sansa mutters under her breath, hastily peeling her summer linens from her sweat-soaked in, following him in. Obligingly, Sandor helps her…  _forget_  how hot it is. 


	10. Stud Horse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt was: I-want-a-baby-sex, ala SanSan, by anonymous.

When little Catelyn reached her first nameday, Sansa decided she wanted another one; Sandor didn’t take her too seriously—they never tried to prevent it, since their marriage, but had never really  _tried_ _,_ either; Catelyn had just seemed like an eventuality, something waiting to happen. That was, of course, until she pushed him down onto their bed with a surprising ferocity and, her tongue slipping past his surprised lips and into his mouth, palmed his cock into hardness with a stunning alacrity. 

His mind not quite caught up with his body, he doesn’t realize why she’s pulling him on top of her, thighs clenched around his hips.

“What am I?” he asked with a teasing smile, grabbing her under knee and spreading a leg wider, higher, grunting when she moaned in response. “Your stud horse?” 

(Not, of course, that he minded.) 


	11. Talented Mouth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt was: SanSan/Cunnilingus

Scraping the nub at the top of her cunt with the burnt side of his lips makes her howl like the she wolf that she is, so he does it again, before sucking it inside his mouth, groaning when he feels a fresh wave of wetness against his cheeks. 

He laughs into her folds, flicking his tongue over her while he curls his fingers inside her, scraping them down the front of her channel. Sansa digs her heels into his shoulders, and he uses one hand to keep her thighs from clamping around his ears—laughing harder when this untethers her almost, with nothing to ground her pleasure. She fists the sheets under her back, moaning loudly when Sandor sucks her clit back into his mouth. 

Pinning her hips to the mattress, he finally lets her come, her moans muffled by her legs pressed against his ears. 


	12. Huddle Through

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt was: SansaSandor and warmth, by anonymous.

It’s cold, in this little abandoned cottage they’ve taken as their own on the long road North—her commanders in the other abandoned cottages, but her soldiers are freezing in their tents, so Sansa is by turns thankful and guilty that they are at least  _inside_. She reaches for him under the furs in the bed they’ve decided to share to keep warm, fire crackling in the long unused hearth, and Sansa wonders about the people who used to share this bed, who made a home of this place. 

It’s been a long campaign home, and she’s missed touching him, because she can’t—she is a queen regent who must sleep alone, walk alone, make her orders, alone. Sandor is ready under her touch, and as the wind howls outside, murmurs his steady affections in her ear as he helps her forget her duty, and her honor, the deaths of her men and the cruelties winter.

She thinks she understands how her father made a bastard, now. 


	13. Handsy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt was: SanSan + makeouts, by anonymous.

Lips and tongues engaged in a heated slide, they lay side by side until he pushes her onto her back to explore her inch by inch, hands roaming over wool and fure, fingers searching out the womanly curves underneath her queenly robes and cape. They shouldn’t be doing this here, in a random bedchamber, in the middle of the day—but really, its nothing more than kissing, more than a little touching. Until Sandor levers her legs open with his knee, and Sansa pushes herself down onto his thigh, working her hips against him. 

Plucking the fasteners of her robe open, Sandor greedily pushes her breasts together. She’s the queen, she can do whatever the fuck she wants whenever she wants, right? 


	14. Happiness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt was: SanSan/Happiness, by anonymous.

When Rickon finally begins his rule—his actual rule, not the end of Sansa’s regency, or his return to Winterfell—in his twentieth year, he and Sansa decide to pack up and go to the lands the Dragon King granted them in the Crownlands for services rendered during the reconquest. They’re isolated, on the cliffs by the coast, and they finally retire from the game, from ruling, from fighting and killing and scheming and finally, it’s quiet and they spend lazy mornings in bed, curled into each other’s skin, panting into the warm summer air as the waves crash into the rocks far below.

 _Happy_ , he thinks, and its almost a strange feeling—one he’s much less accustomed to than the feel of Sansa’s skin under his palms or the grip of her cunt as she comes around him, or the sounds of her moans in his ear. She laughs, content, and he laughs too— _happy_. 

Something he never thought he’d be. 


End file.
